One Hundred Percent
by Tarafina
Summary: She wasn't a teenager with fanciful dreams, but a woman. A New York woman of twenty-five years old, marrying the man not of her dreams but of her reality. There's just one tiny hitch when an unexpected guest arrives.


**Title**: One Hundred Percent  
**Category**: Glee  
**Genre**: Drama/Romance  
**Ship**: Puck/Rachel, Finn  
**Rating**: Teen  
**Spoiler(s)**: Goodbye (Season 3 Finale)  
**Word Count**: 3,856  
**Summary: **She wasn't a teenager with fanciful dreams, but a woman. A New York woman of twenty-five years old, marrying the man not of her dreams but of her reality.

**_One Hundred Percent  
_**-1/1-

Rachel's cheeks hurt from smiling and, not for the first time, she was beyond thankful for water-proof mascara. Not just for herself but for her bridesmaids, her soon-to-be mother in law, and for her maid–of-honor. Quinn had been swiping at tears off and on all morning and seemed to have a permanent tissue attached to her hand in case she or Rachel needed it.

Standing before the full length mirror on a small pedestal, Rachel smoothed her hands down the silken fabric of her dress. She closed her eyes and let the beads and pearls glide beneath her palms. The elaborate design of lace and rouching, of layers and taffeta, it all made her feel like a princess, only better. Because she wasn't a teenager with fanciful dreams, but a woman. A New York woman of twenty-five years old, marrying the man not of her dreams but of her reality. Of this amazing life she'd accomplished.

She'd had this dress fit exactly to her, talking personally with her designer. Someone who wasn't a big name, selling and creating wedding dresses for a living, but instead the costume designer she'd no less than _demanded _work with her on every play. He was a masterpiece all his own; the things he could do with fabric, with body shapes and skin tones; she once swore leaving the house in something he hadn't picked out for her made her feel naked. When she'd asked him to make her dress, he'd cried. And then she'd cried. And, needless to say, he was also somebody who appreciated water-proof mascara.

"I just got the stink-eye from the preacher," Santana said, walking into the room in an attractive silk red dress that floated dramatically around her legs. "You know we were supposed to start ten minutes ago, right?"

"He's a _rabbi_, Santana, not a preacher," Quinn corrected from where she sat, carefully styling Becca's hair into perfectly coiffed curls.

"Whatever," she dismissed. "Ten minutes, ring any bells?"

"We're almost ready," Rachel assured, turning to look over her shoulder as she smiled at one of her oldest friends. "You look particularly fetching. Red always did suit you."

With a saucy smirk, she raised a brow and whistled. "And you look way too good to be wearing white, B."

Rachel rolled her eyes good-naturedly.

"Santana," Quinn complained, covering Becca's ears, who rolled her eyes and muttered, "I'm _seventeen_."

"Oh please." Santana waved her hand as if they were all being ridiculous. "She lost her berry back in senior year and she's _definitely_ no virgin now. Let's not forget that I'm the _go-to _for details, okay? I know every place they've been down and dirty and trust me, it wasn't always legal."

"We did agree to abstain during the last two weeks though," Rachel told them brightly.

Santana's eyes fairly bulged, wide with shock. "You got him to agree to that?"

"I have my ways…" Grinning, she delicately tucked a ringlet of dark hair away from her eyes.

"Okay, we're ready," Quinn said, standing from her seat. "Now, if Becca stops playing with her hair…"

"It's freakin' itchy," the younger girl complained, scowling as she wriggled her head side to side like she wanted to reach up and scratch.

Quinn gave her hand a slap before it'd moved two inches upward. "I haven't eaten anything since yesterday because I was afraid I wouldn't fit into this dress. We have a whole wedding to sit through and it's already been pushed back ten minutes because you're like a fidgety toddler. _Don't _touch your hair!"

Becca curled her lip at her but grabbed up her pretty pink purse to match her dress and marched to the door.

"Was she wearing _boots _under her dress?" Quinn wondered.

"Yes," Rachel said with a sigh. "She refused to wear high heels even though they were custom made for the dress.

"And… you're _okay _with that?" Santana wondered, brows furrowed.

"_Nothing _is going to ruin this day…" she announced. And with a bright smile, she shook her head. "Especially not something as forgettable as poor footwear."

There was a knock at the door then and they turned. Rachel gathered up the bottom of her dress in her hands and told them, "It's probably Rabbi Greenburg. He's not known for his patience and I'm sure we've tested it enough."

But when Santana opened the door, she took three rapid steps back and then shook her head. "No… freaking… _way…_"

"I assure you, Rabbi, we're on our way out now, so there's no need to—" Rachel stopped her reassurances when the door was opened further and she realized Santana's slack-jawed expression was for a vastly different reason.

He looked somehow larger than life, standing there in his fatigues. Finn Hudson had always been somewhat of a giant in comparison to her. Tall and broad-shouldered, he'd swamped her petite frame. But now, with his head held high and a rigid conformity to the way he stood, something she was sure his ARMY training had instilled in him, he looked even bigger. And she thought, beneath the layers of camouflage fabric, he might've been, putting on muscle in replacement of the boyish composite his body had once been.

"What… Finn, _what_ are you doing here?" she asked, her brows furrowed.

Santana crossed her arms and arched a dark brow. "I swear to all that is holy, I will _ends _you if this turns into a Finchel reunion." She stabbed a finger toward him, her blood-red fingernail nearly scraping the tip of his nose. "I don't care if they showed you the Vulcan nerve pinch in ARMY camp, okay? I already gave up my maid-of-honor spot to mommy thighs and I will _not _suffer through any more, you got me?"

"Okay, rage-Tana is back," Quinn muttered, crossing the room and shaking her head. "We're just going to leave you two to talk…" she offered, sliding an arm around Santana's waist to drag her away. "Rachel, you'll be okay?"

Still shocked, she nodded vaguely, her eyes on the man in front of her, a man she hadn't seen since he was just an eighteen year old boy, telling her to chase her dreams and forget about him. She could hear Santana muttering curses in Spanish under her breath as they left and knotted her fingers, feeling panic burn her chest.

"You didn't answer my question," she said, her voice sounding extremely loud in the otherwise quiet room.

Her eyes darted away from him, taking in the plush lavender couches and chairs, the matching drapes that moved in the breeze atop sheer white curtains. The vanity table covered in jewelry, hair supplies and open containers of make-up. All morning they'd been here in their robes, monogrammed with their initials, especially made for this day. Doing hair and sharing stories, laughing and crying, picking at food, and she'd seen Becca sneak more than one glass of champagne.

Silk slippers lay on the floor beside the pedestal, with a tiny sapphire sewn onto the top of either one; her something blue. She stepped down to slide them on, smiling as the smooth fabric fit perfectly over her feet and remembering briefly that at another time, she'd had to wear four inch black and white heels to a wedding that never was.

"I would've dressed up, but this is kinda last minute," Finn finally spoke.

She looked back over at him, her dark hair sliding softly over her shoulder. "I… wasn't aware you knew." Her gaze fell momentarily. "Kurt didn't tell me you were back."

"Would you care?" he wondered.

She frowned at him. "Of _course _I'd care." She shook her head. "Finn, you'll always be my friend… I've never wanted anything to happen to you. I—I was _heartsick _after you told me you'd joined the ARMY."

"Yeah," he scoffed, eyes taking in her wedding dress quickly. "I can see that."

"It's been _seven years_," she reminded. "Did you want me to _wait?_" She walked toward him, sighing. "Did _you?_"

He looked away.

"That's what I thought." She half-smiled. "And you know, I… I'm not mad." She stared at him gently. "The best, most unselfish thing you could've done is what you did…" She pressed a hand to her heart. "At the time, I… I was _angry _and _sad _and I wanted you to take it back. Take it _all _back and we could just… spend a year in Lima and then, after, our lives would really start, but…" She sighed. "It wouldn't have. We would've stayed there in Lima and—and you would've worked at Burt's shop and I would've gone to community college or taught ballet to children with the same hopes and dreams I had at their age…" Her face fell, eyes dropping to the floor. "We would've been Mr. Shue and his wife all over again," she whispered.

"But it's not like that now," he said hurriedly. "You got out; you got your dreams… You—" He grinned. "You conquered Broadway, Rach."

"I did. I _am_." She nodded, smiling. "Being on that stage, Finn, it's the most amazing feeling I have ever known."

"I'm glad." He stared at her earnestly. "I… I wasn't always good to you." He shook his head. "I made a lot of mistakes when we were kids. But… I really did want you to be happy. I _wanted _you to have that spotlight."

"I know," she assured. It was a long moment before she said, "He does too. He…" She swallowed. "He _always _did." She smiled, her eyes burning. "I was blind to it, to _him, _in high school, but Finn…" She looked up at him and shook her head. "I _love _him. I… I love waking up to him and going to sleep with him. I love how he makes me feel special, every day. How—How goofy and sweet and _good _he is." She laughed, reaching up to swipe under her eyes for what had to be the _nth _time that day. "I even love how he _never _remembers to put his dirty socks in the laundry basket, he—he just kicks them off wherever he is and leaves them on the floor." She wrinkled her nose. "It drives me _nuts_, but… I wouldn't give it up. Not…" She stared at him sincerely. "Not for _anything _in this world would I give him up."

His jaw ticked and he looked down, away from her. "How'd you meet up again?" he wondered.

She sniffled and started searching for the tissues Quinn had always had within reach. Finding a box on the settee, she pulled out a few and wiped carefully beneath her eyes. "I was two years into NYADA, it was summer break, and…" She shrugged. "Santana called me. She'd been working her way up the ranks as a singer and she had stayed in contact with him. She asked me if I wanted to go out with them that night. He was in town visiting." She licked her lips. "We met up at a bar, it…" She smiled fondly in memory. "There was karaoke and…" She rolled her eyes. "You know how I get around an open mic."

He half-smiled, nodding.

"Well, we were drinking and we were reminiscing and Santana pushed us to do a duet and…" She sighed softly, reverently. "That chemistry was still there. That… _amazing _musical connection. We got up there and it was just… It was _magic_." She shook her head. "And I don't…" Her brows furrowed. "I don't know, maybe he felt it too, because… He moved to New York hardly a mother later and… We just started spending more time together." She shrugged, blowing her nose and balling up the tissue to throw away. "We went out for dinner one night and there was this beautiful band playing and he just… asked me to dance. And it was like we'd been doing it all our lives, this push and pull, the steps came so easy, like we anticipated one another, like…" She turned back and looked at him sadly. "It was like we were made for each other."

He closed his eyes, his head duckling slightly as he let out a long, heavy sigh.

"After that, it… it was just history, I guess." She shook her head. "You have to understand, Finn. It… It'd been _two years _and I was ready to move on. I had to let go of you and the _idea _that somehow it would all come back together. I…" Her brows knotted and her eyes shut tight. "I _had _to accept that our lives really were meant to be lived apart. And when I met him again, when… when we reconnected, it… It wasn't the people we were in high school." She looked at him once more. "I'd grown up, I'd _matured_, I'd… I found _Rachel Berry _again, the dream-chaser, the girl who wanted nothing more than a Tony award and a duet with Barbra Streisand."

"And where'd he fit into that?" He stared at her searchingly. "Because I remember having a really hard time trying to find out where I fit in your grand plan…" He shook his head. "So what, you found a way to balance it with him?" His brows furrowed. "He—He got it better, what?"

"We were together two years before I graduated NYADA… Before I started looking for work, to get my name out there… And it wasn't easy. As talented as I am, it was _never _easy… But, he was _there_."

"I was on the other side of the damn planet, Rachel. If I could've been there, I _would_ have."

"Finn…" she sighed. "You and I were already over. You… _You _made that choice. And I'm _thankful _for it."

"I let you go, but I _always _thought we'd get back together," he argued.

"He didn't," she told him.

His brows furrowed. "What?"

"He _never _thought we would get back together. He never thought I could be happy with him." She frowned. "Which is _exactly _how I felt when I was with you."

He shook his head, confused.

"I never felt like I was enough for you, Finn. I always felt like you could do better, that you _wanted _better… E-Even when we were going to get married, I believed that I was beneath you." She sniffled, wiping at tears. "That's not healthy. That—That's not _good _for a relationship."

"So why is it okay if it's with _him?_"

"It's not. It _wasn't_." She licked her lips. "But when he graduated, when he left Lima, he did it on his own, alone and uncertain and scared of who he was and who he might be… He left Lima and McKinley broken and without the bravado or confidence I remembered. And he went on to do amazing things…" She brightened. "He fixed himself. He—He found himself again. Not the cocky, arrogant boy who'd once thrown people in dumpsters. But, the self-assured man who… who sang his first solo to prove that he could be leading man material. The man who chose glee club over the football team. The man who—" She laughed softly. "Who wore a dress to school because he was willing to take one for the team, whatever it cost to win us Nationals." She shook her head. "So when we met again, he wasn't the boy who didn't think he was good enough for me. He was a man ready and willing to love and be loved by me…" She stared at him searchingly. "And I was a woman who was ready to take the world by the horns, who was ready to find love again."

"We're not in high school anymore, Rachel. There's nobody to impress here…" He walked toward her. "I found myself in the ARMY. I found the man my father wanted me to be and I… I think he'd be proud of me now. _I _am proud of me now. There's just…" He ducked his head. "There's still something missing in my life and when I was eighteen, I— I chose my dad and myself, I chose that over you, and now I… I'm wondering if I made the right choice."

"Finn…" She cocked her head, smiling gently. "You didn't just choose you and your father… You chose me too… You gave me the push I needed to take what I'd always wanted but was afraid to have. I… I don't know, maybe you feel like it was different. Maybe it wasn't even your intention at the time, but… I _needed _to be in New York. And you? You needed to be in the ARMY." She walked toward him and readjusted the upturned cover of his right chest pocket, buttoning it. "You look calm… _Comfortable_ like this." She looked up at him. "You look like a soldier."

His mouth ticked up one side. "I am."

She nodded and took a step back. "And I'm proud of you… Of who you are and what you do."

He swallowed. "You look beautiful, Rachel." He stared at her sincerely. "I was always knew you'd make a beautiful bride." The unspoken words of '_I just always thought it'd be me'_ rang clearly in her mind.

"Will you stay for the wedding?" she wondered.

His eyes fell and he shook his head slightly. "Not really dressed for it."

"He was your best friend once," she reminded him, before turning to walk back and collect her veil.

"It was a long time ago," he said quietly.

"Everything seems like a long time ago." She slipped her veil on and drew the delicate sheer fabric down over her face. "I'm sure he'd like to see you…" She smiled. "He could introduce you to the guys…" She looked over at him happily. "He works for the FDNY… His team is like his brothers. They're like a second family to us."

"He's a fireman?" he asked, surprise tingeing his voice.

"He is." She nodded. "A wonderful one."

"That… That's great," he said with some difficulty.

She stared at him a long moment before collecting her bouquet of flowers and wrapping her hands tight around the ribbon hugging the stems. "He's a good man, Finn." She stared at him searchingly. "I know your past might not let you see that sometimes and… I'm sure today doesn't help, but…" She raised her chin stubbornly. "Even if you don't trust him, trust in me… I'm making the smartest decision of my life today… I'm marrying a man who has stuck by me through every failed audition, through vigorous morning and night routines, through three am freak-outs when I'd wake him up because I had terrible nightmares that Patti Lupone had banned me from musical theater…" She frowned. "That one scarred a little. I went to a therapist for awhile…"

Finn looked away, slightly confused.

Shaking her head, she said, "He's been there through my worst and my best and everything in-between and I… I've done the same for him. Which is why I know," She pressed her fingers to her heart insistently, "I _know _that I'm marrying the best person for me today."

He took a step toward her, his brow pressed in a firm line. "If you can tell me that you're 100% sure that you want to marry him… I will _never _doubt it. I will walk out of this—" He waved a hand around dismissively, "—this church or whatever this place is called and I won't ever get in your way again…" He stared into her eyes wonderingly.

Rachel took a deep breath and released it. "I'm 100% sure," she told him, her face sincere, her voice never wobbling.

She watched as his shoulders fell, as he deflated and she offered a sorry smile.

"We were _kids_," she told him. "Hopelessly romantic children who didn't know what they truly wanted out of life and were just looking for a little stability in an unstable world."

He nodded slowly. "Yeah."

Rachel smoothed her hand down her dress one last time. "Thank you for coming, Finn, and I really do hope you'll stay… He'd really like to see you." She started to the door, but paused once to look at him, staring at his back "You did the right thing that day… Setting me free."

He raised his head and nodded faintly, but Rachel could see him in the reflection of the mirror she'd been standing at when he arrived, and she could see the tears that fled silently down his face.

"Goodbye Finn," she said softly, and with that, she left the room and walked down the hall, where bright red carpet stood out in contrast to the pristine white walls.

Her daddies were fussing over each other by the doors leading inside to the ceremony hall. "There she is!" her daddy said, turning to smile at her brightly. "_Oh_, Bunny," he gasped, raising a hand to his throat. "You're stunning," he said, his voice choked.

Her dad turned, his head cocked as he let out a long, adoring sigh. "Beautiful," he told her. "Absolutely beautiful."

She smiled at them both and stepped closer, holding out her arms for them to loop theirs with.

"Just so we're all clear, I do have the car gassed up and ready if you've changed your mind," her daddy told her, patting her hand. "You're always welcome back home."

At her raised brow, he shook his head.

"I was just being prepared. You know I approve of this wedding. I haven't been able to stop talking about it since you two got engaged." He grinned. "I'm _proud _of you. We both are." He leaned over to kiss her temple. "That man is going to be the luckiest husband alive, do you understand me?"

She smiled softly. "Thank you." Taking a deep breath, she nodded at the doors. "The sooner, the better."

Her dads knocked on the door to let the wedding party know and as the doors opened, she watched as Quinn took the front, linking arms with Brady, the best man, her two bridesmaids, friends from NYADA, and Becca followed after her, with Rachel and her dads taking up the rear.

She smiled briefly as the sighs and oohs and ahhs of the crowd filled her ears. She was well aware that the dress she was wearing was one of a kind and absolutely eye-catching. But she didn't care much for the adoration of the crowd, a first for her, instead she was focused on the man waiting for her at the front, beneath the chuppah, next to Rabbi Greenburg. As bridesmaids and groomsmen filed onto either side, she was handed over to her soon-to-be-husband by her weeping fathers.

And standing there, with her hands folded in his, she smiled brightly, her breath leaving her as he grinned back, looking devastatingly handsome in his black and white suit.

Noah leaned in close to her, their noses bumping gently, and he asked her five words that sent her heart soaring. "_Are you ready for this?_"

And with a soft laugh, she told him with all honesty, "100%."

[**End.**]


End file.
